More Than a Crush
by TheAmericanWeasley
Summary: It was amazing how their love had started with just a crush. A cute moment between Harry and Ginny on their wedding night. Written on request.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to it. Never have. Never will.

This oneshot was written by request for **TheBookishAngel** (previously known as ILuvWeasleyTwins, MusicDisneyStoked, and more). I loved this cute idea of yours, and very much enjoyed creating a story from it.

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_**More Than a Crush**_

a Harry Potter fan fiction

by TheAmericanWeasley

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It was amazing how quickly time slipped away on such an important day—magical, even. Ginny had awoken that very morning a Weasley, but now entered the crisp and luxurious hotel room as a Potter. She looked over at her husband, who had already made himself rather comfortable in the king-sized bed, waiting for her warm presence. His naturally unruly hair looked even more sexy tonight, along with his Quidditch-toned, bare chest, and his emerald eyes piercing into hers through his round spectacles.

Even Ginny had to admit that she was ogling at her husband like a silly schoolgirl, something that she hadn't been guilty of doing since her early Hogwarts days, when her relationship with Harry Potter was nothing more than a mutual friendship and an obvious crush on her part. Sometimes she would have dreams about it: her first encounter with Harry on Platform 9 ¾, when he saved her in the Chamber of Secrets, and all those times he had spent the nights or holidays in her home. Of course, during that time, Harry had been more interested in hanging out with her brothers than with her, but that changed in her fifth year, when they had finally shared a kiss. Things had become rough after that, with Harry leaving to hunt for Horcruxes, but immediately following the end of the war, Harry and Ginny had rekindled; and now, as it seemed, were together forever. It was amazing how a lifelong commitment could sprout from a girlish crush. She smiled at the thought.

"What are you smiling at?" Harry inquired from the bed.

"My very sexy husband," Ginny replied, removing some pins from her curtain of red hair. "Then again, what's not to smile about? I'm in a beautiful hotel in Paris—why, the Eiffel Tower is right outside our bloody window! And I've just married the man I love." She tied her hair back in a ponytail, and slipped the thin straps of her silky nightgown onto her slender shoulders.

"I don't know why you're even bothering with a nightgown," Harry commented, "We both know it's coming right off in a few minutes, anyway."

"Isn't that the fun of putting on clothes? Knowing that you're going to take them off?" Ginny pulled the covers back on the bed, and jumped in next to him.

"Tell me," Harry began, "for how long have you planned this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know you've liked me for a long time—but at what point did that sexy brain of yours decide to make me your husband? I'm very curious to know."

Ginny laughed and decided to play along. "Oh yes, Hermione and I have been concocting a way for you to fall in love with me for _years! _Looks like it finally worked."

"Hermione was in on this the whole time? I should have known!"

"Of course, she gave me loads of tips on how to woo you. She's observed you with Cho Chang and other girls far more than I have—she knows what makes you tick. In return, I helped her plan how to get with Ron."

"Then it was certainly a successful planning, because those two are inseparable. I don't even want to think about what they're doing right now."

"Maybe we could be doing the same thing," Ginny said, a flirtatious grin teasing the ends of her lips. "You know, it's amazing, I never would have thought when I met you that day on Platform 9 ¾ that I was looking at my future husband."

"It _is _amazing," Harry agreed, slithering his arm around his wife's waist, pulling her closer into his embrace. "It was fate, I believe."

"Or just my incredible body and irresistible charm." And to prove her point, Ginny ran her index finger down her exposed cleavage, where her modest but attractive B-cups stood proud and perky.

Laughing, Harry replied: "Well, those two features were certainly contributing factors." He pulled the elastic band out of her hair so he could run his hand through it. He loved her hair, as it was probably her most distinctive physical attribute; even in a sea of Weasleys, Harry felt that he could find his wife easily. While her hair was red like the rest of her family, there was something about her particular shade and scent—pure orange in some conditions, and a darker red (almost brown) in others, with a faint but noticeable air of strawberries—that made her stand out to him.

Ginny pressed her firm bum into his groin, causing him to groan and stir beneath the covers. "Why do you insist on teasing me?"

"And why do you insist on wearing underwear when I would much rather you sleep in the nude?"

"Oh, is that what you want? You should have told me." Harry grinned, looking into the eyes of his wife. They were a pleasant shade of brown—like that of chocolate, coffee, or tree bark. The color of Earth. And with his being green—the color of leaves, grass, and various plants; his were the color of Earth too. Their eyes connected on a level of intimacy that he had never shared with anyone else; it was supernatural. "Did I ever tell you that I love you?"

"Hmmmm," Ginny began, exaggerating her thoughtfulness. "You may have mentioned it a few times . . . or a few million." They both chuckled at this, and she continued, "But I don't mind, because I love you too."

"Why don't we stopping chattering and prove our love to each other?" He quirked an eyebrow at her, and added suggestively, "If you know what I mean."

"I'm quite all right with that." Turning the lamps off in the hotel room, the two Potters rolled over in the bed and commenced to proving their love physically. Neither was worried about making it perfect—just as long as they were together—because they knew it was to be the first of many, many times, with Harry being her loving husband, and Ginny being his caring Mrs. Potter.


End file.
